Viva Las Vegas
by Barbarian Librarian
Summary: Mulder drags Scully to the annual paranormal convention - in Las Vegas.  'Nuff said.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: I got this story idea from another writer of another fandom, who is far more talented than I will ever be. I thought it was a fun plot to send our Moose and Squirrel to Las Vegas too. This fic is going to be angst-free (I will try my damndest, though I am a sucker, as you all have learned, reading my other stuff). My hope is that this is just funny, fluffy, smut-ridden goodness. Minimal tears. Timeline? I don't even know. Season six-ish? Pre end of season seven for sure, except it's present-day Las Vegas. This is just a bit of a teaser of what is to come. Enjoy!**

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><p>Bright light city gonna set my soul<br>Gonna set my soul on fire  
>Got a whole lot of money that's ready to burn,<br>So get those stakes up higher  
>There's a thousand pretty women waitin' out there<br>And they're all livin' devil may care  
>And I'm just the devil with love to spare<br>Viva Las Vegas, Viva Las Vegas

-"Viva Las Vegas", Elvis Presley

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><p>HOOVER BUILDING<p>

BASEMENT OFFICE

MONDAY – 8:34am

"Wait, _what_?" said Dana Scully, incredulously.

Scully had just gotten into the office, running a few minutes late thanks to Monday morning traffic. She came in, huffy, annoyed she'd not had coffee yet, and just ready to start the day. When she'd entered their basement office, her partner didn't even greet her. Instead, Mulder immediately began yammering on about some convention.

"ParaCon, Scully," he tossed at her again, as if she were supposed to know what that meant.

"Dare I ask what that means?" she said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice as she hung her coat on the hook of the door and made her way to her desk to sit.

"It stands for 'Paranormal Convention', Scully," Mulder said gleefully. "And it's in Las Vegas this year."

Scully's eyebrow hit her hairline. "Well I guess I can assume what you'll be doing on your vacation then."

"Oh no, no, no, Agent Scully," he returned, enjoying this conversation too much, knowing the protests that were about to rise from her. "You and I will both be going."

She immediately protested. "You must be crazy, Mulder, if you think I am going to waste what few vacation days we do get to go to some gathering of UFO nuts."

"You wound me, Scully," Mulder smirked. "But alas, this one is out of your hands. I've just gotten our travel vouchers approved from Skinner. We leave in the morning."

Scully's mouth hung open, forming a perfect "O". "You mean to tell me that Skinner approved airfare, lodging, and per diem for meals for _that_?"

"Yes ma'am," he said, attempting to keep a straight face.

"On what grounds?"

"Professional development and networking," he said evenly, studying his nails.

"Oh brother."

_Las Vegas, huh?_ Scully thought to herself. _Thought oughta be interesting._

* * *

><p>DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT<p>

GEORGETOWN

MONDAY – 8:00pm

Later that evening, Scully sulked in her apartment while packing for this utterly ridiculous trip. She yanked open her closet door, pulled down her roller suitcase from the top shelf, and heaved it on the bed with a sigh.

While she secretly admitted it would be nice to get away from the usual cases and do something a bit non sequitor, this was not at all what she had in mind. She pictured herself her first week of medical school, during the white coat ceremony. There were so many plans and dreams she had for herself. None of which involved or was remotely even related to a Paranormal Convention in Las Vegas.

She hated to admit that she adored the idea of going to Las Vegas with Mulder far too much. Of course, he'd be too busy with the booths and the expos to even notice her. And given his vast taste in adult entertainment, it pained her to think of what would preoccupy Mulder by night. A surge of jealousy flowed through her at the very notion. Of course she was hopelessly devoted to Mulder, professionally and personally. She loved him, and she'd loved him for a while. So the idea of Mulder at some titty bar on the Las Vegas strip actually made her skin crawl.

She'd only been to Las Vegas once before, during a spring break trip with her housemates, her senior year of undergrad. The collegiate version of Dana Scully was studious, especially since she was pre-med. But there was something about Las Vegas, even then, that made her feel carefree and wild. No wonder they say, "what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas". Not that she'd ever really done anything scandalous there, but there was just something about that place.

Hell, maybe this was the time to kick back, and show Mulder she isn't actually a prude. She could wear clothes that were much more revealing than she normally did. Maybe they could go out for drinks, see a show, or hell, maybe even wind up at a club, dancing close together. Sure they were there for five days on "official business", but this was certainly not an FBI matter. This was Mulder's idea of a joke, somewhat, and she wanted to be sure to play along.

When Scully slept, she didn't dream of Mulder the way she normally did – kissing him, touching him, the usual suspects. Instead, she dreamt of doing body shots off him in a swim-up bar in Vegas.

It was certainly going to be an interesting trip indeed.

* * *

><p>FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT<p>

ALEXANDRIA, VA

MONDAY – 9:30pm

Mulder could barely contain his excitement. He hasn't been to Las Vegas in years. Sin City was one of his favorite places in America. Sure, it could be cheesy, but some of the hotels there were absolutely luxurious. Of course, the government per diem rate for Las Vegas left much to be desired. Most of the motels they were used to staying in didn't really exist in Las Vegas unless they wanted to stay somewhere really sketchy. Besides, he knew Scully wasn't exactly thrilled to be going to Vegas, so Mulder took it upon himself to book adjoining rooms at Caesar's Palace, and he would just pay the difference of what the per diem rate didn't cover. Hopefully that would be a pleasant surprise for Scully. His partner was never one to complain on the road, but he could often tell she was displeased at the places they had to stay at when they were out in the field. Caesar's was one of the nicest places to stay, and pretty central to everything. The convention center was just a quick monorail ride away.

The other thing Mulder omitted from this whole story was that the Gunmen were going to be there. The guys went every year, promoting their publication _The Lone Gunmen_, to which Mulder, of course, faithfully subscribed. The guys were the ones who put the idea in Mulder's head about going to ParaCon, they'd been trying to get him to go for years. He and Scully had a lull in cases and he thought this came at just the right time.

He pitched the idea to Skinner on his own, knowing Scully wouldn't even let him make it to the elevator to see Skinner. Mulder wasn't stupid, he knew he was out there, and often times did things for shock value. So when he marched up to Skinner's office and pitched the idea, he expected to be shot down. Much to his surprise, Skinner reluctantly agreed, helping Mulder package it as a professional development thing, so the Section Chief would approve it.

Mulder assumed Skinner just wanted them out of his hair (so to speak). As it turned out, he was exactly right. With budget cuts, the FBI was being audited by the Department of Homeland Security. With the recent budget cuts and the rise of terrorism, the federal government wanted to eliminate any oversight. The FBI and DHS often stepped on each other's toes, and no one was there to dear a clear line of jurisdiction.

Since their office burned down awhile back, the X-Files were unofficially shut down. Slowly things began to pick back up, though it seemed that the X-Files itself was officially unofficial and off the record. So when the bean counters come by, Skinner didn't want the activities in the basement office to even be brought up. Opportunity, packaged as ParaCon, presented itself, and Skinner was more than happy to sign off on it.

Mulder checked his itinerary once more. Their flight was leaving at ten in the morning from Dulles, which gave them plenty of time to get moving, even with traffic. He threw the itinerary into his briefcase, along with their passes for ParaCon, as well as their hotel information.

He tried to approach this whole Vegas thing with a rational mind, with no expectations. It was completely plausible that Scully would be a prude, in bed by ten every night, and by day she'd be trailing Mulder at the convention, with that incredulous look permanently plastered on her face. On the other hand, Vegas was a town like no other and sometimes it could turn even the straightest laced people into wild versions of themselves.

Silently, Mulder hoped for the latter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: I need to focus on this story a bit more right now! It's been getting heavy with some of my writing. I also recently watched "Bad Blood", which is what partially inspired me to pursue this idea. As heavy as the X-Files can get (often), it is definitely a comedy at times too, and I really want to play with that. I want it to be almost a spoof of XF, though this is something I could totally see happening if the series were still going on haha. Anyway, lot of reviews after one chapter, this makes me excited! Glad you guys like the idea.**

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><p>CHICAGO O'HARE INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT<br>CHICAGO, IL  
>TUESDAY, 3:01PM<p>

Scully had spent the latter part of their first flight fuming in silence over having to go to a UFO convention. Mulder looked at Scully with amusement, knowing she wouldn't stay mad for long. Their flight took them from Dulles to Chicago O'Hare, then after a two-hour layover, onto Las Vegas.

Once they landed in O'Hare, Scully wordlessly stalked off to find their gate to their connecting flight, leaving Mulder to fend for himself. Her plan was to sit and sulk for two hours. That was, until she spotted The Billy Goat Tavern and Grill right beside their gate. It was like the Siren's Song to her foul mood. Adjusting her laptop bag on her shoulder to ease the slight pain she felt, she walked inside the small bar and took her seat at the bar.

The bartender appeared from around the corner, drying a glass. "What can I get you miss?"

Scully paged through the drink menu thoughtfully. She didn't drink often and didn't know what to get. "I'm not sure," she said. "But I'd like to be knocked on my ass and or sedated for my next flight."

The bartender smirked. "I have just the thing for you then."

Scully smiled. Time to kick back.

"So why you tryin' to be mid-blackout for your flight, if you don't mind me asking?" the bartender asked her a few minutes later, handing her a blue drink in a large pint glass.

"Because I am going to Las Vegas and I don't want to go," she said matter-of-factly, taking a big swig from her glass without making a face. It burned going down.

Mulder decided to let Scully wander wherever it was she wanted to go because clearly she wanted to be left alone. Spotting a newsstand, he wandered inside, perusing the magazines and newspapers, looking for something to occupy him for the next two hours until they boarded the plane. He settled on today's Chicago Tribune and a Sudoku puzzle book for Scully, hoping the numbers and perhaps a friendly competition would lure Scully out of her stank mood. He paid the cashier and made his way to the terminal to sit and await his fate.

An hour and a half later, Scully stumbled over to gate C18 with an impish grin on her lips. She wasn't sure what it was the bartender gave her, but she knew that she had a thirty-dollar bar tab and she could no longer feel her face.

She spotted her partner, engrossed in something and she sauntered over to him, running her fingers through his hair flirtatiously.

"Helloooo, Foxxx Mulder," she smiled, slurring her speech slightly. "I wondered where you went off to!"

Mulder was stunned speechless. He attempted to offer a response that died in his mouth, which was now hanging open.

She took a seat next to him and snuggled her head into his shoulder, peering at his newspaper. "What are ya reading?"

He caught a whiff of something that smelled like strawberries and vodka. Mulder nearly died at the realization. His partner was drunk. Possibly shit-faced. On assignment. At three o'clock in the afternoon.

He was so turned on.

"Scully!" he hissed. "Have you been drinking?"

She leaned back and grinned at him, making Mulder's heart do a flip-flop in his chest. "Oh don't make me out to be a criminal, Mulderrrr. I just needed a little somethin' to take the edge off."

"That's what she said," Mulder muttered, within earshot, causing Scully to giggle uncontrollably.

"Why are you reading without your glasses?" she questioned, with a lopsided grin. "You know you never wear your glasses anymore."

"Gee I didn't think you noticed, Scully," he said, cautiously. He wasn't sure how to proceed, because a drunk Scully was about the only kind of Scully he'd never seen, besides maybe a horny Scully. He shuddered at the thought. A horny Scully may possibly kill him.

"Of course I notice," she purred directly into his ear, causing Mulder to get goose bumps from head to toe. "You know how sexy you are in your glasses?"

Mulder's mouth went dry. Scully thought he was sexy? If that were the case, he'd wear his glasses every day. He'd never take them off again. Jesus Christ. But surely this was just the booze talking. Though he did remember how the saying went in college: _A drunken man's words are a sober man's thoughts._

Either way, he needed to approach this with caution. As much as he was attracted to Scully and as much as he loved this very _forward_ version of herself, he didn't want to take advantage of her. Because sure she was hanging on him now, but sober she'd never shown any indication that she might want more from him.

Fifteen minutes later, it was time to board. Once Mulder guided Scully to their seats on the plane, she sat down and was passed out within minutes, snoring lightly. Mulder tossed her a bemused look before being distracted by his phone. It beeped once, indicating he had a text message. He picked up his phone and gave it a glace. It was Langly.

_R U in Vegas yet?_

Mulder smirked. Those guys were the best computer hackers out there, and yet even they were reduced to using language such as "R U".

_Boarded plane at O'Hare, will be there in about two or three hours_., he replied.

_Great. Where R U guys staying? We're the Hilton, Frohike just had 2 C the Star Trek Experience._

Mulder rolled his eyes. Typical. _We're at Caesar's Palace_.

_Ohhh high roller. Trying 2 impress a certain redhead?_

God, was he that transparent? _I just want Scully to enjoy herself._

That seemed like a safe answer. Of course the guys knew him better than that.

_Maybe U should take her out somewhere nice. Frohike says Hooters Hotel n Casino. Byers says bad idea._

He chuckled. They were so stupid. They did have a good point though. Mulder definitely did want to take Scully out somewhere nice while they were there. Vegas had some of the finest dining out there. They could get dressed up and see a show too. The thought of seeing Scully out in a floor length cocktail dress, maybe something showing her back... No. No. He couldn't go there right now.

_Yeah I've got some plans. Should we meet up tomorrow night? Have drinks?_

_U mean be social like normal Homo sapiens? We dig it._

The attendant came on the intercom and instructed all electronic devices to be powered down for takeoff. Mulder punched the button on his phone and took another look at Scully. She was out cold.

* * *

><p>Caesar's Palace<br>Las Vegas, NV  
>4:00PM<p>

"Mulder!" Scully gasped. "This is too much. Oh my god. Oh my god!"

This was something secretly hoped he'd hear if he ever got Scully in bed. Alas, she was referring to how divine the hotel was. When the limo driver opened the door and revealed a grand marble entrance stair case with gold railings, she nearly fainted, and for the second time today.

The first time she nearly fainted was after she and Mulder had their bags in the Las Vegas airport after they'd landed. Mulder's eyes were scanning the area for something, until at last he tugged her towards the man in the tuxedo holding a sign that said "Mulder".

"This way, Scully," he had said. "Our ride is here."

When they followed him outside they were greeted by a black stretch limousine.

The limo took them from the airport and all the way down the Las Vegas strip, which nearly knocked them both on their asses in shock. It'd been a few years since either of them had been to Vegas, and boy had it changed. Scully's drunken behavior was not discussed. Mulder didn't plan on bringing it up unless she did. And Scully felt no reason to bring it up, since she barely remembered it.

"Welcome to Sin City," Mulder had said, leaning out his side of the window of the limo.

"Yeah, this is an illustration of capitalism in motion, isn't it?" she mused.

And now, here they were, stepping into the hotel. When they stepped in they were immediately greeted with the never-ending jingle of slot machines. The entryway branched. To the right was the main part of the casino, which led to other parts of the hotel. To the left was the check-in area.

"This way, Scully," said Mulder, placing his hand on the small of her back, guiding her in the direction of the counter.

After a short wait, it was their turn.

"Room for Mulder?" he asked, handing the person behind the counter his ID and his credit card.

The woman took them and tapped his name into the computer, searching for his reservation. A few moments passed before a look of concern washed over the woman's face.

"I am afraid there has been a mix-up, Mr. Mulder," she said apologetically. This is a busy weekend for the city - the ParaCon as well as the world's largest Star Trek convention are both happening this week.

Scully's eyes shot daggers at Mulder. A damn paranormal convention AND the world's largest Star Trek convention in the same week? _Unbelievable._She could hardly imagine what kinds of insanity would be on the streets of Las Vegas this week. Not drunken frat boys, barfing up an entire bottle of tequila in the street, she was sure of that.

"I don't have two adjoining rooms available at all, or even any singles left. Can we offer you our finest suite in the Palace Tower? We'll charge you the rate for the rooms you booked."

Mulder looked at Scully. "Sound okay?"

She nodded silently, wondering what a suite at this kind of place entailed.

"Please accept our sincerest apology. We'll put a hundred dollars hotel credit on your account as well," she said, clearly intimidated by the fact that they were FBI. "It's good to use at any restaurant here or at our Qua spa."

"That's great," Mulder said. "We appreciate it."

With that, the pair headed off to find their suite in the Palace Tower, which was fortunately right by the check-in area. Scully wasn't sure her mood could handle an epic odyssey through the casino trying to find their proper tower.

They stepped into the golden elevator and Mulder punched the penthouse button, before realizing he needed to use his key card to access that floor.

Scully quirked an eyebrow at him and leaned back against the elevator door. They rode in silence all the way up to the top and stepped out onto the penthouse floor. A bellhop or butler of some sort guided them in the direction they needed to go.

"Hello, Mister and Missus Mulder," he greeted them. The pair exchanged looks, but neither made an attempt to correct him. "Welcome to the Fantasy Suite. It's actually called the 'Absolut Find Your Flavor Suite', brought to you exclusively by Absolut Vodka. Inside you will see six bottles of Absolute vodka, which are yours, compliments of the room. Each room in the suite is inspired by the flavors of the vodka. You will also find your bags already inside. My name is Lionel, should you need anything at all."

Mulder handed Lionel a twenty before stepping into their suite and shutting the door. Before he could turn around, he heard Scully gasp.

"Holy. Shit. Mulder, look!"

Mulder turned and was greeted to a sea of orange. The walls were a bright mandarin orange, the ceilings were probably twenty veet high. There were decadent Murano glass orbs hanging everywhere that illuminated the doorway, which gave them the distinct feeling that this room had to have been the orange inspired room.

They moved forward into the next room, which they noticed was a bi-level room, which was decked out completely in a maroon or purple, possibly inspired by grapes… maybe raspberries. There were plush purple ottomans and other seating surrounding the room, everything curved around the center, which was a reflective black dance floor. Scully spied a media center and a huge window, which gave them a breathtaking panoramic view of the Las Vegas Strip.

"Oh my god," he said in awe, approaching the window.

"Mulder! This place has to be at least a grand a night! How much were the rooms that you originally booked?"

He paused to think. "They were like three hundred a night, and I was just going to use our allotted per diem, and then cover whatever was leftover on my own."

She turned to look up at him. "You didn't have to do that," she said softly.

Mulder shrugged nonchalantly. "I know I didn't Scully, but I wanted to. I know you didn't want to come, so I wanted to make sure you were at least comfortable while we were here and not totally miserable."

Immediately, Scully felt like a heel. "Mulder, I know I hassled you, but I wouldn't have been miserable, regardless."

He put his arm around her. "Well now we're sure to not be miserable. Let's check the rest of this place out."

They pushed forward into the next room, which was a bright red suite, clearly inspired by grapefruit, given the pillows on the queen sized canopy bed, which were shaped and colored like wedges of grapefruit.

"This can be your room, Scully," Mulder joked. "I hate pink."

Scully made a face. "Luxurious or not, this room is hideous."

On the opposite side of the suite was a staircase, which they wandered up and found themselves in another room. This room was all yellow, clearly inspired by lemons. The walls were painted neon yellow, and the room had a sort of a beach theme, which had a bed with a lip-flop and cabana headboard and lemon drop lamps.

"This must be what it feels like to get the golden ticket into Willy Wonka's factory," Mulder commented with a grin.

Next to the citrus room they found themselves in yet another bedroom, which Scully immediately claimed as hers. The room was actually quite interesting. The walls were a lighter yellow-orange with painted and the floor had an aquatic appeal. The carpet was made in such a way that it appeared the pure white bed in the center of the room was floating in water. The room had a ledge perimeter, which gave the feel they were sitting on the edge of a pool.

The last room was another just across the way from Scully's room, which was a bedroom Mulder claimed. It was a room that lacked color, much to Mulder's relief. Everything was white and the carpets and drapes even appeared to be glacially inspired. There was a queen sized sleigh bed on the far end of the room, which Mulder fell into almost immediately.

Scully hung back in the doorway between their rooms, amused at Mulder's actions.

"I am afraid we are not going to get to make good use of the lounge and dance floor," she said with a chuckle. "This is a paranormal convention, not spring break."

"Don't forget about the Star Trek convention," he added rolling over to face her, resting his head on one of the plush pillows.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh of course not.

"Besides, I'm sure we could invite the guys over to our room and polish off all the vodka."

Her eyebrow hit her hairline. "The guys?"

Oh. Mulder supposed he'd forgotten to tell her that detail.

"Yeah," he said sheepishly. "The Gunmen are here for the convention too."

"Of course," she mused with a small smile. "Why wouldn't they be here?"

This trip was becoming more ridiculous by the moment. And Scully couldn't find it in her to care at this point.

"Why don't you unpack and shower?" he suggested. "I've got a bit of a surprise for you."

"Oh?" she said, interested. "I hope it involves food."

"You're in luck, it does. Now, this is a fancy joint we're going to Scully, so I hope you brought something nice."

She approached him and tapped his head. "Who are you and what have you done with my partner?"

Mulder chuckled. "Go. Get ready. Meet me across the street at the Paris hotel in two hours. At the Eiffel Tower."


	3. Chapter 3

**Fantasy Suite, Caesar's Palace**

**Las Vegas, NV**

**6:30PM**

Scully looked back at her reflection was satisfied with how she looked. She hoped she wasn't too over the top. This was Las Vegas though, the capital of all things over the top.

She was wearing a black cocktail dress. It was a one-shoulder dress that draped over her left shoulder, leaving her right arm and shoulder exposed. The dress cinched at the waist and had a narrow silhouette, the hem stopping mid-thigh. It was shorter than anything she ever wore, but it was still very classy. She remembered what her sister Missy said when they were in college. If you are going to show cleavage, cover your legs. If you are going to show leg, cover your cleavage. Scully felt classy and fabulous in this dress. She was wearing pumps higher than she normally wore at work, but she bought them on a whim a few months ago and didn't have anywhere to wear them, so they sat in her closet, collecting dust.

Her makeup was perfect. She wore a bit more than usual, feeling caught up in the glamor of Vegas. She did a smoky eye for her eye makeup, and a berry colored lip stain. Unsure of what to do with her hair, she simply dried it upside down after applying some root lifter and straightened it. Her hair appeared as a longer and sleeker version of her usual bob.

Scully couldn't lie, she felt like a million bucks. And now she was off to meet Mulder for dinner?

Perfect.

* * *

><p><strong>Eiffel Tower, Paris Hotel<strong>

**Las Vegas, NV**

**7:03pm**

Mulder checked his watch nervously, for the millionth time. He scored them last-minute reservations at the restaurant atop the Eiffel Tower at the Paris hotel. After that, they were meeting up with the Gunmen for drinks at some place Frohike texted him about. He hoped Scully would enjoy herself.

Appearing out of nowhere was someone who looked a lot like Scully, but who totally knocked Mulder's socks off. There she was, clad in a short little black cocktail, showing off her porcelain, toned thighs. On her feet were black fuck-me pumps that gave Mulder an immediate hard-on. Her eye makeup pulled the whole look together. She was dripping with sex appeal, and that sexy little smirk on her lips let Mulder know that she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

"Hey you," she said with a knowing smile as she approached Mulder.

Scully gave him the once-over, appreciating what she saw before her. Mulder was wearing black dress slacks and a white button-up shirt, which happened to he her favorite shirt of his. Something about the way it sat on his lanky frame made him look so deliciously masculine, it made her shiver with delight.

"Uh," Mulder fumbled, trying to be cool. "Scully… you look amazing, and I…"

Raising an eyebrow, she stifled a laugh. She loved watching Mulder squirm. She loved that he was squirming because of how she was dressed.

"Don't we have reservations, Mulder?"

"Oh, yeah, right," he said lamely. "Let's go."

The restaurant was on the eleventh floor, so they made their way to the elevators, which were made of glass. The elevator whisked them up and opened just by the bustling kitchen of the restaurant. Scully always thought restaurants with open kitchens were very cool.

They moved forward to the dining area and were greeted by the hostess stand. Behind the stand was a tall, willowy brunet. Scully thought she was drop-dead gorgeous and immediately felt a surge of jealousy run through her veins as Scully watched the girl look at Mulder precisely the way Scully looked at him just minutes ago.

Mulder seemed oblivious, as usual.

"Reservation for two, for Mulder," he said, looking down at Scully and seeing her glare at the hostess.

Was she being territorial? Was he reading that exchange wrong? If so, Mulder thought he'd die right there in the restaurant. He lived for the day he'd see Dana Scully territorial over _him_. And of course she didn't know this, but she had every right to be, because unbeknownst to Scully, Mulder had surrendered himself to the notion that he would only belong to Scully a few years ago. All she ha to do was ask.

"Right this way," the hostess said coolly, leading them to their table.

Mulder placed his hand again at the small of Scully's back and guided her through the restaurant.

The restaurant was stunning. The carpet was a rich maroon, and the tables were covered in a whited linen tablecloth, with chairs that matched the carpet. The lighting was low and intimate. The shape of the place was half-circle, in the center was a luxurious full bar. The entire outer circle of the restaurant did not have a wall, instead it was all glass, giving them a stunning view of the other hotels on the strip. Where Scully and Mulder seated, they were overlooking the Bellagio fountains.

"Jesus, Mulder," she said in wonder, picking up her menu.

"Pretty swanky, huh?" he said with a grin.

Just then, their waiter appeared with menus.

"Good evening, I'm Richie, and I'll be your server tonight," he said, giving them their menus plus a drink menu. "Can I get you two started with something to drink?"

Mulder looked at Scully, indicating she should go first.

"Do you have a drink you recommend?" she asked, finding no inspiration in the drink menu.

Richie nodded. "Our Ciroc white grape martini is _to die for_."

Scully smiled. That actually sounded very good. "I'll have that then."

He turned to Mulder. "And for you, sir?"

"You don't happen to have Bulleit, do you?" he asked. It was Mulder's favorite brand of bourbon, and next to nowhere carried it.

"We do, in fact."

"I'll have a Bulleit then, neat please."

After he left, they picked up their menus.

"What's Bulleit, Mulder?"

"It's a high-end bourbon," he said, perusing the menu. "It's my favorite."

Scully made a mental note to go looking for Bulleit once they got home, to keep around her place.

"What sounds good on the menu, Scully? You want an appetizer?"

"We shouldn't, Mulder, it's kind of expensive," she said wistfully. The jumbo sea scallop appetizer sounded amazing, but she couldn't justify spending twenty dollars on an appetizer.

She looked up when she felt Mulder's warm hand over hers. She tossed him a quizzical look.

"Tonight is my treat, Scully," he said sincerely, looking into her glittering blue orbs. "You get whatever you want, you have as many drinks as you like. Okay?"

She smiled coyly. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Mulder?"

"Who me?" he said, his smirk betraying his innocent tone.

Richie came back with their drinks and took their order. Scully caved and ordered the appetizer, along with the sautéed sea bass as her entrée. Mulder opted for the braised short ribs.

"Mmm," Scully sighed. "This drink tastes so good. This was a good choice."

Dinner went on nicely. Scully was feeling the effects of the combination of Mulder, the clearly romantic ambiance of the restaurant, and the several grape martinis. She felt divine. The conversation at dinner was nice. No shop talk, just chatting. Scully told Mulder about the first and only other time she'd ever been to Vegas.

The entire gesture of dinner and drinks tonight on Mulder felt so intimate to her. It felt so good and so shockingly natural to be doing couple things with Mulder.

After declining dessert, things began winding down.

"So where to now?" she asked.

Mulder picked up his phone and scrolled through his messages, trying to find the info. "We're meeting the guys at some place called Crazy Horse. It's off the strip so we'll have to take a cab."

"Hoo boy," was all she could manage.

* * *

><p>CRAZY HORSE GENTLEMAN'S CLUB<p>

LAS VEGAS, NV

9:45PM

The cab pulled up to this Crazy Horse place that the guys had texted Mulder. When they got out they both immediately realized it was not just a bar – it was, in fact, a strip club.

"Mulder, you've got to be kidding me right now," Scully groaned.

He snorted. This was so typical. "Humor me, Scully. Let's go have a few drinks with the guys and we'll get outta here. No harm, no foul."

"No harm, no foul," she muttered, following him into the club.

Scully had to hand it to the guys. While they'd brought them to a strip joint, she had to admit it was a pretty classy one. The please was quite upscale and very clean. It was obvious that the girls that worked here made a lot of money from a very upper class clientele. But the place was also a nightclub, bursting with younger kids, probably out here for twenty-first birthday parties or spring breaks.

They wove their way through the club, and found the table the guys were at. They were already a few drinks in, trying desperately to not look like the misfits that Mulder and Scully both knew they wore. Scully somehow found this terribly endearing, though at this point she could probably blame that thought (and all future ones) on the alcohol.

"Mulder! Scully!" Langly greeted them, standing up, along with Byers. Frohike, however, was unable to speak or move, or take his eyes off Scully in _that _dress and _that_ makeup.

"Holy Moses…" he said, finally.

"How was dinner?" Byers asked

"It was incredible," Scully said, taking a seat. "Where are the drinks? Do I have to go fetch my own at the bar at a place like this?"

Mulder smirked. Scully was turning out to be quite the soak in Vegas. He couldn't lie – he loved it.

"Let me flag down the girl who has been taking care of us," Langly said.

Five minutes later, a tall, busty brunette approached the table. She was wearing only a black, lacy bra up top. Her torso was bare, and the only things covering her lower half were a thong, a garter belt, and black fishnet thigh-high stockings which had little hot pink bows atop each one. On her heels were black fuck-me pumps.

"Hi there," she purred, reaching out to stroke Mulder's face. "I'm Destiny. Can I get you something to drink, handsome?"

"Um… uh…." Mulder fumbled. He looked at Scully, who now donned a look that could kill every person in this room. "Dana, what would you like to drink?"

Destiny turned her head, obviously missing Scully when she approached.

"Oh," she said plainly. "What can I get you?"

"Grape martini," Scully returned evenly. "And a double shot of tequila."

Clearly she was going to need a lot of alcohol to get through tonight.

Once she took their drink orders, Scully seemed to settle a bit as the group began to chat. Scully kept her observations on Mulder, who tried his best not to look like a kid in the candy store. This place had girls on poles out the wazoo here. Besides, his taste in adult entertainment was no secret.

An hour and a half later, there was no doubt the group was drunk. Everyone was laughing, having a great time, and knocking back drinks like there was no tomorrow. Mulder found that he was unable to stop touching Scully. She in that dress and those heels combined with his umpteenth scotch was a dangerous combination. Scully didn't seem to mind – at all, in fact. Their touchy-feely demeanor even made the guys raise an approving eyebrow.

It was about midnight when the music in the place really got going. Scully began to really feel old, hearing songs about getting "slizzard". A part of her wasn't even positive she knew what she meant. She felt the beats of the music lulling her though, and she felt like she was drunk enough she wanted to get on the dance floor. Perhaps Mulder would come with.

Momentarily, the guys got up and left to go somewhere. Mulder turned to Scully. Jesus Christ, that dress.

"Are you having a good time, Scully?" Mulder asked, touching her face.

"Mmm hmm," she said, closing her eyes at his touch.

"Good," he said, scooting closer to her, his mouth now right next to her ear. "Scully, did you put on that dress tonight with the intent of driving me wild?"

Scully smiled a very drunk feeling smile. "Maybe a little," she admitted.

"Well, mission accomplished," he murmured into her ear.

"So what are you gonna do about it, Agent Mulder?" she challenged, though her voice was beginning to slur.

Before Mulder could answer, he heard someone clear his or her throat. The guys were back at the table and witnessing their cozy exchange.

"What the hell is this?" Scully said with a raised eyebrow, leaning back and acknowledging the tray of shots the guys were bringing to them.

"Shots for all of us," Langly said with a grin, sitting the tray down at their table and passing them out.

"Yeah, we ordered a 'three wise men' shot, you know, after us," Frohike sad, motioning at himself, Langly, and Byers.

Mulder snorted. "Unbelievable. Dare I ask what's in these?"

"Equal parts Johnnie Walker, Jim Beam, and Jack Daniels."

"God, I can already tasted the hangover in my mouth," Mulder deadpanned.

"Cheers," Byers said, lifting his up. Everyone else followed suit, clinking shot glasses. The group all knocked them back and made faces at the taste, except for Scully, who didn't even flinch at the taste. This did not go unnoticed by Frohike.

"Whoa-ho-ho, Agent Scully, I had no idea you could shoot whisky!" he leered. "That's hot."

She tossed him a modest grin. "If you all will excuse me, I need to go to the ladies' room."

And with that, Scully got up and made her way to the bathroom. She was feeling pretty light headed. When they left the restaurant, she felt pretty buzzed, maybe even slightly drunk. It was hard to admit, but she felt so relaxed and so sexy tonight with Mulder. Sure alcohol was the unseen hand, but hell it was Vegas.

She used the bathroom and thought about she and Mulder's little exchange. A huge part of her knew Mulder would never do anything with her tonight because of the sheer quantity of alcohol they've consumed tonight. She wondered if she'd have the courage sober to try to start something.

After she adjusted her hair in the mirror and touched up her makeup, she headed back to the table. What she saw before her was her very worst nightmare coming true. There was Destiny, straddling Mulder, who was probably about to receive a lap dance. As Scully approached, Mulder got the deer-in-headlights look. The guys had bought him a lap dance as a job, and this would probably kill things, whatever those things were, with Scully.

"Don't let me interrupt," she said casually. "I just needed some cash."

She snatched some bills out of her wallet and headed to the bar. Scully wanted something to erase her mind right now.

Mulder finally got rid of Destiny after what seemed like an eternity. He turned to look at the guys, who were all smirking.

"God damnit!" he said, glaring at them. "You all pretty much guaranteed Scully will want nothing to do with me after that little stunt!"

The guys genuinely felt bad. Sometimes it was hard because so often they treated Scully like "one of the guys". So they hadn't even stopped to think about that dynamic whenever they'd ordered the lap dance.

The next thirty minutes were spent given drunken confessions, most of which involved Mulder talking about how in love he was with Scully.

"Speaking of," said Byers, looking at his watch. "Where _is_ Scully?"

Shit. She'd been gone awhile now. Mulder hoped she wasn't mad. He hoped she'd wake up tomorrow and not remember anything about anyone named Destiny.

Langly and Byers disappeared for about ten minutes, looking for Scully. Not long after, he hears, "Mulder, come quick! Scully's all grinding up on some dude on the dance floor!"

The guys rushed over to the nightclub area of the venue. Sure enough, there was Scully, who now had a bottle of Miller Lite in her hand. Her ass was grinding into some guy's crotch, and this guy had both his hands on her hips. Fittingly, "Single Ladies" by Beyoncé was playing.

Without hesitation, Mulder marched up to them, tapped this guy on the shoulder, and growled, "Get off of her."

The man looked annoyed with Scully. "You didn't tell me you had a boyfriend!"

"I don't!" she said, before spotting Mulder.

Never the less, the man stalked off, leaving them both on the dance floor. Scully continued to dance now, with no one. Mulder was mesmerized by the sway of her hips with the beat of the music. He'd never seen her dance before, and it was so incredibly sexy.

"What happened to Destiny?" she slurred, nearly stumbling in her heels.

"She's gone. C'mon, Scully, let's get you home. You're drunk."

"Uh-uh," she said, shaking her head, her swaying hips now coming dangerously close to grinding into Mulder. "If ya liked it then ya shoulda put a ring on it."

In any other situation, Mulder would have laughed at Scully's witty execution there, but right now, he needed to get her home to bed. It was three o'clock in the morning.

He finally grabbed her by the waist, almost picking her up, and drug her outside, where there were cabs already lined up, since it was close to lased call. Mulder didn't even bother to say goodbye to the guys. He was all too sober now, he just wanted to get them back before the night turned into a complete disaster.

"Where to, mister?" said the cab driver.

"Caesar's Palace," he said, before nearly gasping. He felt Scully's hand on his inner thigh.

When he looked over at her, she was on both her knees. One hand was on Mulder's inner thigh while the other grabbed his head, stroking his hair while whispering one of the very few things he never expected to come tumbling out of Dana Scully's mouth.

"Mulder, I'm horny," she purred.


End file.
